A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long to update, but life is being quite annoying lately. My muse also seems to have just returned from a long holiday; hopefully it isn't too rusty.
I also realized that all the headcanon I have for this world isn't known to you guys (well, cuz, it's my head and you guys can't see into it.) So I decided to put some of it down to try and explain how the world Lilium is set in really works.
Also, I know that I am insanely late, but I just got a Tumblr account! My username is megapieceoftrash (because that's what I am) and I will be fangirling over yuri and occasionally writing short stories there, stories most likely too short for me to put up here. At the time of this writing, my only blog is dedicated to the ship HoneyGoGo from Baymax, or as it's more commonly known in English-speaking countries, Big Hero 6.
Haruka
Katarina's POV
"I'm very surprised, Ms Du Couteau, you turned in a perfect paper," the Chemistry teacher looks as if he is unsure whether to be proud or terrified, dropping my paper on the edge of Ashe's desk. He is shaking visibly; it is obvious that he would have rather gladly lived his life in the illusion the state has struggled to paint.
This country is not the only one wrapped in pretty packaging, most of this world has gone to the dogs ever since the governments began collapsing on themselves with infighting, hundreds of years ago. There was this place called… America, I think, from history less ancient than Hitler and probably ten times more interesting, that used to be the "leader of the free world" or something. However, terrorism rose and they could not decide how to deal with it, and ended up fighting each other while the terrorists grew in strength and number.
People were dying left, right and center, the children of their citizens began marching all too young in uniforms far too big, their blood staining the soil of foreign lands, yet nothing changed. Too motivated by their own self-interest, too caught up in "protecting" their beliefs and religions, they ripped at each other's' throats while the world crumbled around them.
Desperate, ordinary folk took up arms as the governments busied themselves with meetings and summits and whatever, unable to pass any solid law or movement without being stopped by some other authority. By the turn of the century, the world as we knew it collapsed, and the reign of the gangs began.
Now, many zeroes down the road, the world has managed to pull on a pretty covering over its rotten, bloodstained surface, but the truth is, we have mostly returned to the law of the jungle: survival of the fittest. The strong and influential do as they please because they can, while the weak tremble in terror, hoping that they do not tread on our toes, desperate to live their ordinary-seeming lives. Not wanting to start all-out war in our lands and risk being overtaken by a rival, the gangs tolerate these false governments and their attempts to "cut down on crime", as long as they don't go too far.
Obviously, the weak can always try to band together to overthrow the dragons breathing down their necks, but none of the little groups really dare to trust each other. The world is a paper stage, and no one dares to breathe too hard in case it all collapses.
As the Chemistry teacher waddles down the row, taking most of the nerds' attention with him, Ashe hands me my paper with a small smile that lives more in her eyes than her lips, whispering so that only I can hear her, "I'm really proud of you."
For some strange reason, my cheeks burn scarlet as my fingers brush against hers, a warm fuzzy feeling rising in my chest. It's not exactly nice, yet not exactly uncomfortable either, as if a thousand bloody bats are going crazy in my stomach while warm honey slides down my throat. It makes whatever remains of my brain melt, and all I can do is stutter, "I-it's nothing, r-really…"
"You're very intelligent, Kat. You should apply yourself more." The smile in her voice further reduces me into a gooey puddle of lovesick trash, but I am too enamored with her to care.
The sound of my laughter, edged only with the slightest of sarcasm, causes the nerds to spin around so quickly they probably got whiplash. "You must be kidding me, babe. I'm a murderer, remember?"
The word doesn't come out as lightly as I had intended; there is almost an edge of… remorse in my tone. Reliving Cass' death really got to me… I have to watch out, there is no way I can go soft, Noxus will explode. Anyway, nothing I do can bring Cass back to life, nothing I do can make me take her place as I deserve, so I might as well continue the way I was before.
Sensitive as always, Ashe picks up on it and silently, discreetly, takes hold of my hand under the table. As the nerds turn their attention back to the blabbering fat man, who is struggling to recover a sense of normalcy, she begins to rub gentle circles into the back of my hand, eyes trained carefully on the board to keep up appearances.
Suppressing a smile, I grip her hand gratefully; if only every single day of my life could be like this from now on… but that's just wishful thinking. A strange twist of fate brought us together, and it can drag us apart just as easily.
Reality is not on our side, the heiress to Noxus and the heiress to the house of Freljord cannot possibly have a future together. Our worlds are too far apart, the obstacles in our way colossal; if I anger Noxus, I will not live very long, and if Ashe angers her family, she will lose others important to her.
Come on, you wuss, woman up! You've got loads of blood on your hands and a rep that would make any other gangster run home to his momma, and you're too scared to tell the world you're gay? This isn't 2014, it isn't "wrong" anymore. Just… weird, maybe, heads might turn since most of the LGBT are in Iris, and you don't really see them anywhere else…
Maybe we could run to Iris for help, the gang reaches out to all LGBTQ+ individuals and offers them a safe country to live in, a place to improve their skills, study or work, a place to live happily without discrimination or fear of persecution from the extremist religious organizations or ignorant, judgmental masses…
The lunch bell snaps me out of my reverie, and I automatically head down to the back garden with Ashe in tow. We try to stand about an arm's length apart whenever we are together and walk different paths as much as possible, not because we're embarrassed to be seen together but because we have to be careful about how we behave in public. After all, the Freljord family will not be delighted to hear that their prized heiress is getting too cozy with a murderer.
When we reach the garden, that black cat glares hatefully down at me from my tree, making a loud mrrow of disapproval. A smile lights up Ashe's face at the sound – she's pretty amused that a stupid cat can hold grudges, I guess.
"Oh f**k off, goddamn furball," I hiss, tossing a rock up at the creature. With a yowl, it flees as fast as its little paws can carry it, rump most likely stinging from my deadly aim; I've never been very nice to animals.
"You're mean, Kat." Turning, I find my Ashe looking at me with a childish pout, arms crossed, reminding me of a spoiled six year old who did not get her way.
Warm laughter bubbles from the back of my throat as I respond teasingly, "Whatcha gonna do about it, princess?"
A cheeky grin spreads across her face as she lunges at me in response, crystal blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Playing along, I immediately turn tail and flee, climbing up my tree and hopping to the next one before she can even get halfway up.
"Too slow~" I taunt, suppressing the urge to rush to her aid when she gasps slightly; considering how badly bruised she is, we probably should not be doing this. My shoulder isn't exactly one hundred percent either…
Slipping down the tree, Ashe lets out another hiss as her side connects with a particularly low-hanging branch. She is trying to fight it off, the waves of pain; I can see it in her eyes. She doesn't want to worry me, so I pretend that I do not notice, hopping back onto my tree and gloating down at her.
"Come on, Ashe, you couldn't catch me even if I had my eyes closed," I taunt, hopping down a few feet away from her and sticking out my tongue at her. Immediately, the pain in her eyes washes away, a warm, gentle amusement taking its place.
"You'll regret saying that," she lunges at me again, which I easily sidestep, wrapping my hands around my eyes as I do so. A small giggle slips from her throat as she switches tactics, backing away from me and trying to approach from a different angle.
Unfortunately for her, her intoxicating scent easily gives her away, along with the soft rustling of her footsteps through the grass, and I can easily tell which direction she is approaching from. Sidestepping yet another lunge, I continue taunting her childishly as the pace begins to pick up, making our game feel something like a little dance.
I can feel the strands of her snow-colored hair brushing my arms as she rushes past, initially missing by a mile but now close enough to nearly clip me, and I adjust my responses accordingly to just avoid getting caught. Little giggles pepper the air as we circle each other, a lightheartedness I never thought I'd feel again filling my chest.
"Ow!" a sudden yelp of pain makes me flinch, and I worriedly turn toward Ashe, asking if everything is alright. She does not respond, making me panic, and just as I open my eyes, I am enveloped in a tackle-hug, the surprise bowling me over.
Taking great care to land on my uninjured shoulder and to cushion Ashe from the brunt of the fall, I wrap my arms around her just as we hit the ground. It is my turn to pout now, the concern in my tone barely concealed, "That was dirty, Ashe. I thought you were hurt."
"When I'm with you, I won't ever get hurt," she replies; my heart nearly explodes from my chest as my cheeks skyrocket to about a hundred degrees.
Before I can respond, a pointed clearing of the throat attracts our attention, and I pull my gaze away from my Ashe to see the principal standing over us, arms folded and eyebrow raised. It is Ashe's turn to blush, suddenly self-conscious, while I simply blow a strand of hair out of my eyes and ask, "What's up?"
"Miss Du Couteau, Lady Freljord," her tone is icy, warning us that we are most likely on the wrong side of her today, "Lunch ended ten minutes ago, shouldn't you be in class?"
Stiff as a board, Ashe has already fixed her mask back on, carefully untangling herself from me. Sitting up, I put on my usual devilish smirk as the principal threatens, "Please do not be a bad influence on Lady Ashe, Ms Du Couteau. If her behavior goes downhill, I will have to report this to the Freljord house, who will surely take action."
Instantly, the color drains from Ashe's already pale face, the fear in her eyes evident to only me. I have to be careful, I do not want to make my Ashe's life any worse than it already is… Bloody heck, our happiness is so painfully fragile that it's frustrating. It feels as if a little gust of wind could blow our paradise to pieces…
Lowering my head uncharacteristically, I rise and obediently troop back to class, mumbling an apology under my breath. The principal's eyes are practically popping out of her head as I pass her by, completely thrown for a loop by my bizarre behavior.
Just a couple weeks ago, I had tossed a knife in her face when she met me, and now, I am being all guilty and remorseful-looking – what in the world is going on with me? This "love" crap is a lot stronger than I gave it credit for...
As soon as we are out of earshot, I mumble under my breath, unable to meet my Ashe's eyes, "I'm really sorry…"
Upon hearing that, she turns around immediately, ice blue fire burning intensely in her eyes, before enveloping me in a surprise hug while whispering in my ear, "It's not your fault, Kat. Anyway… I really enjoyed myself."
We are standing in the middle of the hallway, and yeah, though it isn't lunch anymore, there are still people walking around on their way to lockers or class or ECAs, yet she doesn't seem to notice them gawking at us. It makes me worry; will these idiots spread gossip like wildfire until it reaches the ears of the Freljord house? Will Ashe's impulsive action result in more pain for her? Should I shove her away…?
Despite all the thoughts buzzing in my head, my body reacts by snuggling into her embrace, drowning me in the blissful scent of her hair and the coolness of her skin. "T-thanks…"
She smiles, I can feel her lips against my neck and it makes me shiver. "You're welcome, kitty Kat."
Pulling away, I try to sound fierce, but the grin on my face gives me away, "Never call me that again."
"I'll think about it," her smile is almost… flirtatious, mischief glittering in her eyes as she pushes open the classroom door, leaving me slightly dazed behind her.
Goddess, I love that girl.
Ashe's POV
The human brain is a strange thing, easily hypnotized by daily rituals, fooled into thinking our lives will go on the same way into eternity. Every once in a while, the illusion shatters, when gangs fight openly on the street or a huge act of violence breaks out, resulting in deaths so numerous the world holds its breath in terror, wondering if it is the day the façade will finally crack.
Then, the gangs retreat, their unknown mission complete, allowing the shell-shocked world to be lulled back into the illusion of peace. The cycle repeats, the gangs lie in wait, ready to spill blood at a moment's notice.
I, too, was once tricked by this, but being with Kat has really opened my eyes to these things. Though violent and cruel, the gangs are not as random as I had been raised to think, they do not spill blood just because they feel like it. They plan, they wait, they think, because if they do not, they will be overthrown. And though I still cannot condone or accept what the gangs are doing, I am beginning to understand them a little better.
Gangsters are not mindless, bloodthirsty animals; they can be sweet, easily embarrassed, awkward girls who know nothing about romance, dense as lead but more than making up for it in the adorable-yet-badass factor. Or maybe it's just my Kat…
Suddenly, said redhead tenses beside me, emerald eyes filled with tension, suspicion and the slightest edge of confusion. Her head is cocked to one side now, like a cat who has heard something strange, and her right hand has descended to the hidden knives strapped around her waist.
"K-Kat…?" I ask softly as she rises, attracting the attention of the entire class.
She isn't listening, muttering to herself under her breath, "I told Noxus to lay low… who the heck is this?"
I call her name again, louder this time, not caring that my classmates will be able to hear the nickname. She looks down at me, warmth automatically filling her gaze, but the hardness is still there. "I heard a gunshot," she explains, "I'm going to check it out."
"I didn't hear anything," I protest, a sudden dread gripping my chest. What if there really is a gunman out there, using some semi-automatic? How will Kat fight back with just a bunch of daggers and throwing knives? I know she's amazing with them, but… they aren't as deadly as a firearm.
Around me, my classmates are making murmurs of agreement, and the teacher tries to be firm with her and tell her not to make excuses to skip class.
Already halfway out the window, Kat sighs contemptuously at the class, "I forgot, I'm not like you ordinary people." Turning to me now, she says, "I'll be fine, don't worry."
"You'd better be," I struggle to keep the fear out of my voice, wanting to sound fierce, but she calls me out on the act anyway. Slipping back into the class, she drops to one knee and kisses the back of my hand like some old-fashioned gentleman, much to the class' surprise.
"It's a promise, my Lady," she winks playfully, before hopping out the window and disappearing into the evening light.
Holding my hand to my thumping heart, I stare wordlessly in the direction my kitty Kat has gone, the blood rushing in my head drowning out the sounds in the classroom.
Please be okay, Kat. I cannot dream of living without you.
[Later]
Kat didn't come back to school, and now, I am sitting alone in the back of the family limousine, dressed to the nines, ready to attend Lord Tryndamere's 20th birthday party. Most of the elites in the business world will be there, and there might even be a few spies from the gangs lingering around in case anything fishy comes up.
Your job is to look like the happy trophy wife to-be. Do not ever slip up. Behave. There is more at stake here than you could imagine. Forget Katarina. Behave.
The voice in my head echoes the command uselessly, forget Katarina, forget Katarina, but I just cannot get the redhead out of my mind. What if she got hurt, maimed, or worse…? I haven't heard a word from her, what happened…?
"Young Lady Freljord, we have arrived," the chauffeur announces, moments before a butler opens the limousine door and offers me a gloved hand. It is the signal to pull myself together, at least for the night, to protect my mother and brother.
Politely refusing it, I exit the vehicle and enter the grand doors of the hotel, trying my best to calm my racing heart. Nodding and smiling to anyone who greets me or looks in my direction, I obediently find my way to Lord Tryndamere's side, suppressing a shudder as his lecherous gaze tears through the flimsy black evening gown I am wearing. Though it is long sleeved to conceal my bruises, it is so tight it leaves barely anything to the imagination, which is very discomforting.
Placing an arm around my waist, Lord Tryndamere greets warmly, "Ashe, it has been ages since we last met!"
Keeping the tension out of my voice, I respond softly, lowering my head in deference, "My apologies, Lord Tryndamere."
My conduct pleases him, I can sense it, but it will not stop him from doing whatever he wants. He pulls me closer with what can be mistaken as a gentle grin to any outsider, but I know better, tensing my body in preparation for pain. Helpless as I am, I can only play along, trying to seem like the luckiest girl on earth as other rich people greet us and indulge in pointless chatter.
Despite having rented out the grandest ballroom in the city, Lord Tryndamere refuses to dance; he finds it too ladylike and unfitting for a strong man such as himself. Instead, he drowns himself in drink, flirting shamelessly with the other daughters of tycoons and businessmen, all the while keeping me on a practically literal tight leash. I do not show any signs of discomfort or disapproval, keeping my head low at all times and obeying him without a word.
When he begins making out aggressively with the youngest daughter of the Corder house, a child one year my junior, I quietly excuse myself to the balcony, wanting to preserve whatever remains of my innocence. It really does not matter what I do from now on, he is way too intoxicated to remember much of tonight when the Sun rises.
Sighing softly, I lean against the banister and look out at the night sky, at the full moon hanging silently overhead, flanked by its entourage of brilliant stars. Though they seem as if I could reach out my hand and touch them, they are thousands, millions of miles away, their closeness nothing but a sweet illusion.
Just like Kat and me.
No matter what, Katarina Du Couteau and I cannot happen. Beautiful, warm, sweet and comforting as it may be, it will never become reality, it will never come to rest on my palms, wrap around my finger…
"Excuse me," a gentle, cultured female voice sounds from the balcony doors, "Am I intruding?"
"No," I lie, not wanting to seem impolite as I turn and smile. The girl before me is beautiful, slender, with long black hair and familiar, emerald green eyes. Her gown flows elegantly with her frame, clinging breathtakingly to each curve, and I cannot help but wonder what it would be like if I could ever get Kat into such a thing.
Kicking my mind out of the gutter, I bow slightly, "My name is Ashe Avarosa Freljord, and you are?"
The young woman's eyes glitter in an almost predatory way, the familiarity of it striking me deeply as she asks, "Have you already forgotten me, my Lady?"
Confused, I try to recall if I have spoken to this girl beforehand, but I cannot bring forth any memory. Lowering my head, I try to inject some sincerity into my voice, "I apologize, but I really cannot recall having met you before."
She smiles wordlessly in response, striding confidently across the balcony and sitting on the banister, seemingly unconcerned that her gown is riding up, revealing far more thigh than it should, and that we are on the twentieth floor.
"Think harder," she says softly, those brilliant eyes burning into my own, "I am positive the memory is in there."
With that, she leans back dangerously, her long dark hair blending into the night, making my heart leap into my throat. Has this young woman no sense of danger? If she falls from this height, she will surely die!
Catching my expression at the corner of her eye, the young woman straightens up again, chuckling as she hops back onto the ground. With each step she takes toward me, her hips sway almost irresistibly, and I find myself licking my lips as she slowly approaches, a smirk rapidly taking over her features as I struggle to keep my mouth closed.
Gently, she frames my face with her fingers, her lips brushing my ear as she whispers, "You sure have a short term memory, Frost Archer."
The realization hits me immediately, and I throw my arms around her, exclaiming in relief, "Kat!"
She laughs, that musical, rough sound that I love, and I pull back to examine her more closely. Her scar has been covered up, her features sharpened by makeup and her skin tone lightened, which was why I could not quite recognize her. Temporary dye gave her hair its fine, black sheen, and a slightly padded dress gave her the more-adult curves that I was drooling over, but underneath, it's still my kitty Kat, and the conclusion sends warm honey through every inch of my body.
"You're alright," I breathe, pulling her back into a hug, and she begins rubbing comforting circles into my back, indulging me.
"Of course I am, my Lady. I made a promise." She steps back, putting a bit of distance between us before going on one knee, "And if you don't mind, I'd like to make another."
I can only stare in disbelief and confusion as Katarina Du Couteau, heiress to Noxus, heartless murderer and incorrigible rule-breaker, gently kisses the back of my hand, the entire world sparkling in her emerald eyes as she whispers a single sentence that both breaks and soothes my heart.
"Ashe Avarosa Freljord, I promise that someday, no one will ever hurt you again."
A/N: Once again, sorry for the late update. And please leave a review; they let me know that I should actually find time to write once in a while instead of just give up.
P.S if anyone wants to fangirl with me about Big Hero 6, HoneyGoGo or just plain GoGo (I LOVE HER), feel free to drop a message here or on Tumblr or whatever.
Should I continue?
Haruka
